


One Better Than Palladium

by Halmaithor



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Anniversary, Fluff, Immortal Husbands, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, and one innuendo, because Alec is immortal but his family wasn't, but honestly this is very pure and soft and happy, hence the teen rating, like ONE angsty sentence seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:08:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23419486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halmaithor/pseuds/Halmaithor
Summary: ‘Alright, so what’s the traditional seventy-sixth anniversary present?’‘There isn’t one, sweetpea. The system’s of mundane origin, I don’t think many mortal couples get that far.’It's Magnus and Alec's seventy-sixth anniversary, and Magnus wants to find his husband the perfect present.
Relationships: Magnus Bane & Catarina Loss, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 20
Kudos: 264





	One Better Than Palladium

Magnus Lightwood-Bane is currently in the throes of the nicest problem he’s ever had, and he’s sorely disappointed with the reinforcements he’s drafted in. ‘You do realise that you two are being _completely_ unhelpful,’ he grumbles, raising his voice over the high street bustle.

Catarina chuckles. ‘Only because you’ve shot down every one of our suggestions. Look, I told you – it doesn’t even matter what you get him. You know he’s going to love it, because it’s from _you._ He even appreciated the candy canes you got him that one year.’  
‘Don’t remind me,’ Magnus mutters. He’d gotten them as part of a hamper for one of their early anniversaries, knowing how much Alec liked mint at the time. Unfortunately, he hadn’t known how much Alec _disliked_ hard candies.

He jolts back to the present as he stumbles into someone. _‘Spiacente,’_ he apologises, before giving a deep sigh and turning back to his entourage. ‘I’m not sure inspiration is striking me here. Perhaps we gave up on Seoul too quickly-‘  
‘Magnus,’ Madzie interrupts, half-laughing, half-groaning. ‘This is the fourth city we’ve been to. I don’t think location is the real issue.’  
Magnus huffs, annoyed at how reasonable she’s being. ‘Remind me why I invited the pair of you?’  
‘Because your other option was Ragnor,’ she points out, matter-of-fact, ‘and we all know how _that_ trip would have gone.’ She pulls him to the side, away from the flow of foot traffic, and stops him in his tracks. ‘Okay. Let’s just think for a moment,’ she says. ‘What did you get him last year?’  
‘Last year was easy,’ he says, a little bitter at how good past Magnus had it. If only the poor bastard had known what was coming. ‘Seventy-five years is apparently also known as a palladium anniversary, so I inlaid a seraph sword sheath with a palladium design and a protection charm.’  
‘Alright, so what’s the traditional seventy-sixth anniversary present?’

Magnus rolls his eyes. ‘There isn’t one, sweetpea. The system’s of mundane origin, I don’t think many mortal couples get that far.’  
‘Oh!’ Catarina’s suddenly at his side again, grabbing his arm in excitement. ‘Magnus, I think I may have just solved your problem.’ She spins him around, pointing across the street at a low-ceilinged, plainly-painted shop, almost invisible amongst the flashier, more modern boutiques.  
He raises an eyebrow, sceptical. ‘Catarina, Alexander doesn’t play any instruments.’  
‘Well, he’s over a hundred now. High time he learned,’ she declares, and she’s dragging Magnus over to the music shop before he can offer up more than a token protest.

  
The inside of the shop is surprisingly large, stretching back quite a long way from the street. The lighting is fairly dim, but warm and welcoming, and the noise of the street dies down to almost nothing once the door swings shut. The shop is quiet aside from the low mutter of a few other patrons, and the faint strains of Wagner in the background.  
The first floor is almost entirely dedicated to pianos, and with Jace gone less than ten years, Magnus thinks that might hit a little too closely to be a viable option; so instead, they head up to the second floor, home to the more portable instruments.

Catarina and Madzie soon drift away from him, giving him time to browse alone. (He hears the noise of a gong being struck – albeit softly – and then a hiss of _‘Mom,_ I don’t think you’re supposed to touch-‘ ‘Oh, relax, sweetheart. I’m not going to break it. Besides, I’ve always wanted to do that.’)  
Magnus walks through the different displays, trying to choose an instrument that will suit his husband. Anything bowed is out immediately – Magnus already lived through Ragnor’s short-lived attempt to learn the double bass, and he’s not eager to repeat that experience at a higher pitch.  
The woodwind section tempts him for a moment – Alexander keeps himself fit, so he’s definitely got the breath control for it. _Plus a_ very _talented mouth,_ he thinks with a smirk. He’s sure there must be some… _transferable_ skills involved in playing the saxophone -

The next display, however, is revelation enough to stop even _that_ train of thought. Magnus finds himself staring, before starting to grin in triumph.

_Perfect._

  
***

  
‘That was incredible, Alexander,’ Magnus declares once they’ve finished their lasagne.  
It’s always worth complimenting his husband purely to see the look of bashful joy on his face, but in this case, Magnus also happens to mean every word. After coming to the end of his stint as Consul, Alec’s spent the last twenty years as a sort of part-time diplomatic consultant for the Clave, and he decided fairly early on that he’d like to spend his extra free time sharpening his culinary skills beyond his usual _read-the-recipe-and-pray_ approach. It took him a while to start trusting his instincts – but nowadays, they nicely complement his attention to detail, and he’s become a well-rounded chef. (A few years back, he even managed to fix the infamous Trueblood Stew, his newfound culinary understanding lending context and helping him better decipher his grandmother’s looping cursive. _‘Eight tablespoons?_ What the hell was I thinking, Magnus? Obviously that says ‘three teaspoons’, because any more than that and the bitterness would just overpower-‘)

Alec smiles, glowing at the praise just as Magnus expected he would. ‘Thanks. Dessert’s still chilling down, so in the meantime…’  
He stands, taking Magnus’ hand and pulling him over to the couch. Magnus goes willingly, an absent-minded handwave taking care of the dirty dishes, and drops onto the seat beside his husband.  
A pristinely-wrapped box is immediately placed in his lap. ‘Happy anniversary,’ Alec says.

Magnus plants a kiss on his cheek. ‘Thank you, darling.’ He gets to work unwrapping the gift _(Don’t hold it upside down,_ Alec warns hurriedly), and the shiny gold paper tears away to reveal a plain cardboard box.  
Curious, Magnus opens the lid – and his mouth falls open in surprise and delight. ‘Alexander…’ he breathes.

Inside the box are twenty-four jars, each neatly labelled, each containing a different potion ingredient. Black sand, dried honeysuckle, and eagle feathers are among the more commonplace; but what takes his breath away are the likes of oceanic volcanic ash, powdered saint’s teeth, and honeyed rafflesia. ‘Alexander, some of these are _incredibly_ rare,’ Magnus points out, unnecessarily. ‘How on _earth_ did you come by them?’  
‘Hey, I can’t give away _all_ my secrets,’ Alec teases. He’s practically beaming, now. ‘But no-one’s coming to arrest me, if that’s what you’re worried about.’  
Magnus scoffs. ‘As if they’d get through me, in any case.’ He gently closes the lid of the box, and with a flicker of magic, it’s deposited safely in his apothecary. He pulls Alec in closer with one hand under his chin, and kisses him appreciatively. ‘Thank you, Alexander,’ he murmurs against his lips. ‘I love it. It’s so thoughtful of you.’

He pulls away then, laughing at the brief frown that crosses Alec’s expression. ‘Oh, stop that,’ he chides good-naturedly. ‘There’ll be plenty of time for kissing once you’ve opened _your_ gift.’ He gives a flourish of his wrist, and the large, triangular package appears on the coffee table in a spiral of pale blue sparks.

Alec’s eyes widen as he hauls the – admittedly sizable – present onto his lap, and he’s clearly trying to work out what it could be, even as he peels away the scotch tape from each end and removes a perfect rectangle of flocked green wrapping paper.  
He unzips the soft black case – and freezes.

Magnus fidgets a little. ‘Catarina suggested that you might like to learn an instrument,’ he says, scanning Alec’s face for a hint of his reaction. ‘And I thought it might be an interesting new endeavor for you to embark on, after your culinary quest proved so successful.’

‘…It’s beautiful,’ Alec murmurs, and a wave of relief washes through Magnus. Alec lifts out the lever harp, holding it almost reverently, fingertips brushing lightly over the silver runes Magnus magically inlaid in the brindled wood. _Perseverance. Technique. Creation. Quietude._  
‘I’m glad you like it,’ Magnus says softly – but then he grins. ‘I did consider a few other instruments, but this seemed… an appropriate choice.’  
Alec rolls his eyes, though his gaze goes straight back to the harp. ‘We’re still not doing that angel-and-demon couples costume for Hallowe’en.’  
Magnus waves a hand dismissively. ‘You’ll come around on that. I’ll wear you down eventually.’

Alec finally puts the harp down, sliding it gently back into the case and standing it carefully on the coffee table. ‘Thank you,’ he says sincerely, wrapping his arms around Magnus, before pulling back a little to kiss him again. ‘I love it. It’s beautiful.’

Magnus closes his eyes, humming a little in contentment as he rests their foreheads together, trading lazy kisses back and forth. ‘You’re welcome,’ he says. ‘Happy anniversary, Alexander.’

  
The rest of the evening is wonderful, and Magnus feels his quiet happiness – a familiar emotion, these days, and isn’t that positively miraculous? – settle soul-deep. The lemon posset turns out to be just as delicious as expected, and after a few cocktails, Magnus even manages to convince Alexander to dance with him for a few turns.

They wake in a tangle of limbs and silk sheets, and Magnus gazes softly, almost disbelievingly, at the man before him. Alexander is more than a century old, and he’s still _here,_ still young and healthy, still lighting up Magnus’ world with every step he takes. It’s more than Magnus ever dared dream of, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever run out of gratitude for the life they’re building together.  
  


Later, Magnus is in his apothecary, carefully arranging his precious new ingredients into place on his shelves.  
A hesitant, disjointed melody starts to surround him – coaxed from the harp strings in the next room by his very own angel – and he smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, please do let me know what you thought :)  
> [Find me on tumblr!](https://silver-latin-and-salt.tumblr.com/)


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